


Abracadabra

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack Fic, Dick Jokes, F/M, Gen, Innuendo, Language, M/M, Muggle Culture, magic show, magician
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-11-21 20:25:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18147014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Hermione is tasked with taking Purebloods to a Muggle magic show. Chaos ensues.





	Abracadabra

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Riddikulus Fest 2019. My prompt was “purebloods at a muggle magic show.” 
> 
> The one where Frumpologist pretends to be funny. I make no apology for this and I absolutely love the mods who put this fest on — thank you for your unending patience and for keeping us laughing. <3
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this creation.

_ Utterly ridiculous.  _

Those were the first words to flicker through her mind when The Department for the Regulation of Magical Education swooped into her high level meeting and announced that Muggle Studies was to be disemboweled at Hogwarts. In its place would be a mandatory series of Sympathetic Courses designed to endear the wizarding populous to Muggles. And, while she doesn’t think creating sympathy for Muggles and Muggleborns is necessarily a  _ bad _ thing, Hermione wonders how they intend to accomplish such a feat by dragging a bunch of hormonal, elitist teenagers to a magic show.

She tested the theory on Ron and, well, his green pallor when she explained how Muggle magician saws his assistant in half is  _ precisely _ how she expected Purebloods would react. 

Hermione was not disappointed. 

“Tell me again why I’m wearing denims?” Draco gripped her hand as they led a pack of Purebloods down a busy Muggle street in London.

“Because no one attends a magic show wearing Malkin’s Finest Dress Robes.” She gave him a side-eye glance and curled her lip. “But then, the seedy part of London we’re headed to also won’t have Muggles dressed in Yves St. Laurent, either.” 

Draco’s fingers squeezed hers. His jaw twitched. “Muggle or otherwise, Granger, I’m never going to dress as if I’ve fallen through Weasley’s wardrobe.”

She pinched him. 

“Oi, you violent beast!” Draco danced away from her and nearly collided with a Muggle that bustled down the path. “I just—”

“There’s nothing wrong with the way Ron dresses,” Hermione scolded him before he could go off on a diatribe about the poorness of Weasleys and the sophistication of Malfoys and blah-fucking-blah until the end of time. The group following them tittered – all Purebloods who also wore designer Muggle fashion, save for Harry who merely shoved his grinning face into Theo’s shoulder. 

If her brain didn’t explode out of her ears, she’d consider it a successful evening.

“Tell us again why you’re dragging us through Muggle London, Granger.” Blaise saddled up to her other side and slowed his steps. He leaned into her conspiratorially and added in a whisper, “if you needed to ditch Malfoy somewhere, it was a horrible idea to drag witnesses with you.” 

“Blaise, for fuck’s sake, just get over it already. I won, she’s mine, and—”

“Excuse your privilege,” Hermione growled at Draco and tried to extricate her hand from his, failing spectacularly when he held her tighter with a smirk. “Fucking patriarchy and all its shit. I am not  _ yours. _ I’m  _ mine _ and merely allow you to exist in my space.” 

“You didn’t complain last night when I asked you to beg for—”

“Enough, Draco!” Hermione’s face flushed around a deep scowl. 

“I’m only saying that you seemed to enjoy when I called you mine last night.” His eyes stayed on Blaise’s the entire time. “Mine.” 

“Oh, Merlin and Godric above.” Hermione’s eyes rolled as she shook her head. “We’re in Muggle London to attend a Muggle magic show at the behest of the Ministry for their ridiculous idea to acclimate Pureblood students at Hogwarts with Muggles. You’re the test group. Because you’re adults.”

“This is a terrible idea.” Harry piped up behind her with a chuckle in his words. “You and I are the only two in this group that are anywhere close to being adults and last night we went through an entire bottle of firewhisky and sang Bohemian Rhapsody four times in a row.”

“My head still hurts,” Hermione admitted quietly, “but I’m fairly certain it has more to do with six Pureblood wizards walking into a Muggle nightclub than Freddie Mercury’s vocal range.” 

“Freddie Mercury is a wizard.” Luna’s ethereal voice halted anything that Harry was going to say in return. “If Muggles were good enough for him, they’re good enough for me.” 

“Lovegood, you can’t base an opinion entirely on the frankly scandalous idea that a man in leather trousers and a midriff top  _ likes _ a group of people.” Blaise glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows high on his head, challenging smirk on his lips.

“You based an entire opinion on the idea that a man with no nose  _ disliked _ a group of people,” Luna pointed out matter-of-factly. 

“You’re barmy.” Pansy shook her head and tugged her long coat around her small frame. “None of us had an opinion then.” 

“I opined quite passionately against his opinions, thank you very much.” Theo planted his foot at the back of Draco’s heel and caused him to stutter in his long stride and cry out in pain. “Every. Time.” 

“Fuck off, Theo.”

“Potter, we’ve been given an instruction.” Theo’s suggestive tone ran straight over Hermione’s nerves. She sighed heavily and began to spin round to tell them all off, but Theo added, “But perhaps we’ll wait until after Granger’s little experiment this evening.” 

“I, for one, believe that tonight’s events are going to be exquisite.” 

  
She’d forgotten about Percy. 

“How did you get invited again?” Blaise asked quite innocently as he fell back into step with Luna and Pansy. 

“As the Junior Undersecretary to the Head of the Department for the Minister’s Brand New Program to Advance the Development of Muggle and Pureblood Relations, I—”

Blaise promptly fell to the ground. His body blocked everyone behind him. Hermione didn’t realize what had happened until Pansy called after her to stop walking. 

“What happened?” She asked as she stood over Blaise’s body. She nudged her shoe against Blaise’s ribs and he began to snore loudly. “Dammit, Zabini.” 

Blaise pretended to talk in his fake-sleep. No one could understand him with his face pressed into the ground. 

“Is he suffering from Spattergroit?” Luna asked as she bent over Blaise and poked at various places along his body. “Definitely serious. He should portkey to hospital.” 

Blaise’s muffled voice grew louder. 

“Mental sod,” Draco whispered as he ducked down, gripped Blaise by his hair, and yanked his head up. “You’re giving my girlfriend a migraine.” 

“I think you’re her migraine, actually,” Harry intoned. 

A crowd began to form around Blaise. Murmurs ran through it, wondering vaguely if he was dead, dying, or simply pissed. Hermione’s fingers rubbed soothing circles at her temples and she stole deep, cleansing breaths while Draco dealt with The Scene. 

* * *

Somehow, she’d managed to score front table tickets to the magic show. Either the Ministry sprung for an up-close look at Muggle magic or when she used the loo, Draco schmoozed the owner. Honestly, she wasn’t sure which would be truer and chose not to ask as they were escorted stage-side. 

As they tucked into the table, Hermione grabbed a goblet of water and sucked it down. Nerves overtook her easily as they sat waiting for the show to start. The Purebloods acted as if they were in a zoo, watching the Muggles with the sort of awe one might have when looking at a toddler discover the ability to walk for the first time. It was pure luck that no one seemed to notice and that the majority of the tables filled up quickly with drink. If the Muggles were well intoxicated, then hopefully they wouldn’t notice six wizards gawping at them for the mundane things they did, like serve food from trays or remove their coats with their bare hands and not—gasp— a vanishing spell. 

As the stage was set for the show, a tall man wearing a top hat and draped with a silk, over-the-top tuxedo walked around the floor. Hermione watched as he stopped at table after table, greeting the crowd and entertaining them with sleight of hand tricks. Something bubbled in her stomach; a Muggle magician, up-close magic, and Purebloods seemed like a terrible idea. She began to wonder why on earth she agreed to do this as the magician shuffled over to their table holding a deck of playing cards in his hand. 

“Good evening, good evening!” He greeted them cheerfully, the cards between his hands shuffling in a long, exaggerated line. 

Hermione forced a wide smile. “Hello, Mister Mysterio.” 

The table followed suit, greeting the magician with a resounding—and rather bored—hello. 

“My dear, you have the most unruly mess of curls on your head!” Mysterio sounded rather joyous at the declaration, but Hermione grimaced as her group chuckled. “I’d imagine you could keep a nest of birds in there.” 

She glared at Draco, who was hiding a laugh behind his closed fist. He demonstrated precisely how one Pureblood wizard could go about not getting laid for an entire decade. Still, he smiled as his eyes darted toward the magician whose hand stretched to her perfectly tidy and manageable locks,  _ thank you very much _ . 

In a flash, from within her hair, a dove emerged and fluttered its wings for a moment before taking flight around the table.

“Was that really necessary?” Hermione asked him through gritted teeth as the rest of her table dissolved into fits of uncontrollable laughter. 

“I know I wasn’t really on board for this before, but I think this is going to be the best evening I’ve had in quite a while,” Pansy leaned over to Percy and whispered to him, shoulder to shoulder. 

Hermione frowned.

“Quite impressive magic,” Blaise agreed, and held a glass up to Mysterio with a smile. “Unfortunately, we have always been under the assumption that Granger sheltered birds in that disaster she calls hair.” 

The magician laughed as he fanned out the fifty two cards in his hand. “Miss—my, don’t you have the biggest blue eyes I have ever seen!” 

Luna blinked back at him. “You must have never laid eyes on the crumple—”

Theo coughed. “They’re her mother’s eyes. That’s what endears people, yeah? If they have their mother’s eyes? We all know Potter’s milked the color of his mother’s eyes for over a decade and—”

“Theo,” Hermione whispered through gritted teeth. 

“Endeared you enough,” Harry said with a stupid, love-addled smirk on his face. “You couldn’t shut up about the glittering green pools of—”

“Right, love, pick a card, any card.” The magician’s smile appeared more forced than natural, but being around the fluff of a NottPott relationship tended to have that effect at first. Hermione kicked Harry under the table as Luna grabbed a card from Mysterio’s proffered deck. 

“Oh, the Queen of Spades!” Luna shouted excitedly, big, blue eyes staring up at the magician as if she expected a prize for drawing the correct card. 

The magician grimaced – they wouldn’t know not to reveal the card, and Hermione felt for the poor bloke. “I should have mentioned not to show me. Let’s try again, shall we?” 

Luna gripped her card tighter. “But this card is perfect! The Queen of Spades represents intelligence and is one of the main cartomancy cards meant to symbolize the house Rave—”

“Forgive her,” Draco told the magician as Blaise’s hand fell over Luna’s mouth. “She’s extremely high.” 

The magician laughed nervously and shoved his playing cards back into the inner pocket of his tuxedo. He dipped his chin and then fled their table. Poor man didn’t even travel to another table after that. Hermione thought, perhaps, he’d never mingle with a crowd before a show ever again. 

“Extremely high?” Luna asked as Blaise’s hand fell away from her mouth. “I wouldn’t say extremely, but certainly Neville’s knotgrass has contributed to a minute feeling of decreased inhibition.”

Hermione’s large, brown eyes fell on Luna. Godric above, she was actually high! Draco chuckled next to her and muttered  _ told you _ in her ear. 

“Exactly how decreased are your inhibitions right now?” Blaise’s brows were high, a leering smirk settled on his face as he leaned into the enigmatic blonde. He suddenly stole a deep breath and his entire frame stiffened. Luna’s arm was suspiciously angled toward him. 

“According to the Wizengamot Proclamation for the Regulation and Control of Herbological Substances and Import Requirements of Knot—”

A loud  _ thunk _ drew Hermione’s attention to Blaise, whose forehead rested against the white cotton tablecloth. He snored dramatically. 

“Zabini,” she sighed and elbowed Draco as if to say ‘control your mate.’ Draco shrugged and instead looked to Percy. 

“Weasley, no one actually cares.” He pulled Blaise’s head up by his hair. No one was surprised to see Blaise’s eyes squeezed shut, random sleepy noises murmuring loudly from his lips. “Look, you’ve caused Blaise to become narcoleptic from your banal diatribes.”

Before Hermione could witness another Weasley versus Every Other Pureblood on the Planet battle of wits, the lights within the small club dimmed. Excitable mumbling could be heard chasing its way around the room as the darkness on the stage lit up under bright, yellow light. 

“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to a night of magic and mystery!” A booming voice echoed through the room and the crowd went ballistic with cheers and whistles. “I am Mister Mysterio and I promise to bring you a show that you’ll never forget!” 

“Blaise, shut up and pay attention.” Hermione leaned over Draco and poked Blaise in the ribs. “I shouldn’t have to tell you lot how important it is that we have a successful evening here tonight. My career depends on—”

“Definitely chose the wrong group of people,” Harry whispered back to her as he wrapped an arm around the back of Theo’s chair. 

“Too late now,” Draco reminded her as she took a deep breath and chewed the corner of her lip. “It’ll be fine, love. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“Shouldn’t have said that,” Pansy said quietly, glancing nervously at Luna whose arm was moving in a strange forward-backward motion just beside Blaise. 

“If you ask me,” Percy began, but five separate voices immediately interrupted him with various ‘shhh’ noises. 

“Now, the first thing I’m always asked is ‘why do magicians keep rabbits lying about’?” Mister Mysterio pulled his hat from the top of his head and showed it magnanimously to the crowd. “As you can see, I don’t have Mister Whiskers here with me today. He wasn’t feeling very well and is currently sat at home watching old reruns of Doctor Who on telly.” 

The crowd around them collectively made an “awww” sound. 

“Oh, don’t be sad. The little beast is actually quite lazy. In fact, why don’t I just show you?” 

Mysterio made a show of the top and bottom of his hat, sticking his hand into the opening and pulling it out again. Nothing inside, nothing outside. He smiled at the crowd and stuck his hand back into the top hat one more time. 

“The little blighter is playing hard to get!” Mysterio’s arm reached deeper into the hat, almost to the elbow, before he exclaimed, “Aha!” and withdrew his hand again. 

This time, attached to it, was a fluffy, brown rabbit with a white cottontail. 

The crowd erupted in applause, save for six Purebloods sat at the front table. 

“Clearly a summoning spell,” Pansy whispered to her friends. 

“Standard Book of Spells, Grade One,” Theo agreed in a bored sort of tone. 

“Goshawk’s First Law.” Blaise shrugged. 

“He’s awfully big for a rabbit,” Luna said and canted her head to the side. “Is he quite sure that’s a rabbit? Mister Whiskers looks more like a crossbred kneazle under an engorg—”

“Just. Clap.” Hermione hissed through her teeth, completely ignoring Harry’s  _ I told you so _ laughter.

Too late and after the rest of the crowd died down, all six of them clapped slowly.

“I’m going to need more drink,” Hermione whispered with her hand over her eyes.

“Now, if you’ll just hop over there, Mister Whiskers, the lovely Yvette will see to it that you make it back home in time to catch the end of your program.” Mysterio plopped the rabbit down onto the ground and watched as he hopped over to the assistance. 

“What is she wearing?” Pansy whispered harshly to the table. “It’s hideous. It’s  _ sequined!” _

“It’s standard assistant attire,” Hermione answered quietly. “It’s not a fashion show.” 

  
“Clearly.” Pansy crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Bright red sequins are never coming back in fashion.” 

“Alright, can’t do the next trick if I can’t find my magic wand!” The Magician put his hands on his hips and swiveled around, and then placed an open hand to his forehead as if to make a show of looking around for his wand. “Yvette, darling, do you see my wand lying around?” 

Yvette, a blonde with a brilliant, white smile, pulled Mysterio’s wand from between her breasts and pranced over to the magician with the wand held aloft. “Here you are, sir. Kept safe.” 

The crowd laughed and Hermione was sure she heard Blaise’s sharp intake of breath. Of course; he was like a teenaged boy anytime someone mentioned breasts. This, obviously, was no different. 

“That’s a better trick than pulling a rabbit out of a hat,” Draco murmured in her ear. 

She pinched him on the thigh. 

“Right,” Mysterio grabbed the wand and gave it a flick. The wand, which had been stiff and inflexible, suddenly drooped over like it was made of rubber. The magician chuckled. “That’s embarrassing! Am I right, gentleman?”

“Nope.” The enunciation of the p sound popped off Theo’s lips. “Never an issue in our flat, is it, Potter?” 

“Definitely not.” Harry agreed seriously as his hand found Theo’s. 

“Oh, I didn’t know that Muggles study wandlore!” Luna clapped excitedly and Hermione was happy to see her hand back above the table. “But his wand isn’t even made of wood.” 

“His first mistake – no wood,” Draco breathed a laugh. 

Hermione pinched him again. 

“Yvette, can you give me a bit of a hand with this?” Mysterio grinned at his assistant and held the droopy wand toward her. 

“Did you mean to bring us to a sex show, Granger?” Pansy asked. “Weasley’s getting excitable over here.” 

  
All seven eyes swiveled to the ginger at the table. Hermione sucked her lips between her teeth and tried to count backwards from ten. 

“This is chuffing brilliant, this is!” Percy exclaimed, knocking his flat palm against the table. He leaned forward with a massive grin on his face and laughed excitedly. “Imagine, a Muggle who can perform magic as if he’s a wizard. It’s  _ brilliant _ !” 

Hermione and Draco caught eyes. He laughed, she snorted. 

The magician eyed their table, the wand fully straightened and aimed their way. His eyes glittered. Time stopped. 

“Abracadabra!” 

Six fully grown, Pureblood wizards all reacted simultaneously. 

“He’s a Death Eater!” 

“The Dark Lord lives!”  

Hermione and Harry were the only two left sitting at the table. The rest of their group flung themselves underneath the table. The magician stared at them, eyebrows raised, a large bouquet of flowers in his hand. Wand gone.

Hermione kicked Draco’s arm lightly with her foot. Out of the corner of her mouth, she whispered as she leaned down. “He said  _ abra-ca-dab-ra _ . He made flowers appear out of thin air.”

Mister Mysterio tossed the bouquet of flowers to Hermione, but she missed them completely. Instead, they fell on the floor next to Draco, who brought them to her as he crawled out from underneath the table. 

“A Muggle magician with a fake plastic wand just sent all six of you cowering beneath a table with one word.” Harry laughed as he helped situate Theo back into his seat. “Why didn’t we ever think of that?”

“Now we know how to keep them in line at work,” Hermione agreed with a curled smirk on her lips. “If I knew it was that easy, I could have avoided this entire fiasco.” 

“Pity.” Harry nodded. “Oi, where’s Percy?” 

Hermione glanced around and then ducked under the table. No sign of the Weasley. She shrugged. “Must have run out the door in a panic.” 

Harry looked to the door and then back to Hermione. “Five quid says he’s on his way to pitch a new department to the Minister for the regulation and control of Muggle Magicians.”

“The lovely Yvette will lie in this box – see, no trick or gimmick here, my friends.” Mysterio gestured to the brightly decorated box as Yvette spun it around in a circle. He ran his hand underneath and overtop it to prove there was no hidden compartment. “I will saw her in half and then put her back together again!” 

The crowd cheered. 

Draco paled. 

“Pardon me?” He turned to Hermione. “That bloke is going to—what?” 

“Saw his assistant in half.” Hermione repeated. “And then put her back together again.” 

Mister Mysterio brandished a gigantic, silver saw and jiggled it in front of the crowd. Her friends all sat straighter in various shades of disbelief. She glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye and he looked every bit as nervous as she felt from their reactions. 

Yvette climbed into the box, still smiling away, oblivious to the potential threat on her life, certain she trusted this magician and his secret tricks. 

“What sort of deviant Muggle snuff show did you bring us to, Granger?” Blaise asked seriously under his breath, leveling her with a steady gaze. 

Mysterio brought the saw down to the very middle of where Yvette’s body laid in the box. He made one movement to begin sawing. 

Three wizards stood with their wands outstretched. 

Mysterio fell to the ground. 

The Muggles erupted in chaos. 

* * *

 

“— and, so, it turned out to be efficient that Percy had summoned the aurors, because not a moment later, Blaise, Draco, and Theo fired off stunners simultaneously to stop Mister Mysterio from sawing his assistant in half.”

“Well, what person in their right mind thinks it’s okay to pretend to saw someone else in half?” The Head Auror, Robards, was pale and sweaty. 

“It wasn’t  _ real _ , sir.” Hermione laughed and shook her head. “It’s a classic trick. The magician’s box has a hidden compartment. She was never in any danger. Muggles know that.”

“It’s barbaric,” Robards demands softly, wiping his brow with a white handkerchief. “I’m recommending the termination of the entire program. Muggles are best studied at a distance.”

“If I may, sir,” Hermione offered pointedly, squaring her shoulders and presenting a stack of documents. “I think reconstructing the classroom is a great idea, but perhaps we should focus on other Muggle things, like literature and architecture and technology.”

“Tech—”

“Technology; the application of science for practical purposes.” Hermione brandished her mobile and placed it in front of Robards. “ _ That _ is a mobile phone.”

“And what is its function?” Robards glared at the silver brick suspiciously. 

“It’s how Muggles communicate over large distances. If I have one here and you have one on the fifth floor, we’d be able to talk to each other as if we were side by side.”

“Like a floo.” Robards appeared pleased with himself for understanding so quickly and Hermione decided not to correct him. 

“Exactly.” She smiled, stood from the interrogation table, and reached a hand out to Robards. “So, no more magicians?” 

“No more magicians.” Robards agreed and shook her hand. “I’ll recommend to your department head that you draw up a sensible plan for Purebloods education regarding Muggles. Thanks, Granger.”

“Thank  _ you, _ sir.”


End file.
